


Keep You for Myself

by maliks (twoshipsdrifting)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, there's literally no warnings though, this is just like the fluffiest piece of fluff I've written in months
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2773037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoshipsdrifting/pseuds/maliks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt:</p><p>Aladdin AU where Liam is Jasmine, Zayn is Aladdin, Niall is the best genie anyway could every ask for and Harry and Louis are the craziest and loudest guards a prince could ask for. </p><p>I changed it a bit, made it modern day etc but I hope this is still enjoyable!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep You for Myself

It started with Niall – not that much in Zayn’s life didn’t.  
Niall was always getting them in – and out – of crazy situations.  Maybe he was just that charming – but Zayn sort of suspected it was something else.  Not magic, he wasn’t that fanciful.  But Niall had the best luck Zayn had ever encountered.  
  
The only trouble was when they got separated Niall’s little bubble of luck drew away from him and Zayn crashed and burned.   
Like now.

Time has mostly ceased to exist.   
Zayn has no idea if he’s been here an hour or three and all he can be grateful for at this point is that the panic has mostly subsided.  
The conference room is completely empty other than the tables and chairs and it’s too dark for Zayn to see anything outside the windows.  
He was surprised about a quarter of the way through his panic attack that there even was a conference room here – but now he’s accepted it.   
Not like the place isn’t big enough anyway.  
  
Maybe it’s an intimidation tactic – bringing people to your giant ridiculous mansion for a business meeting.   
Maybe it’s not.   
Not like it really matters either way though.  
  
He wonders again, vaguely this time, if he’s under arrest.  
No one had said that he was – only they’d dragged him to this room and dumped him in it and it’s not like powerful people ever have to follow the rules anyway.  
  
Zayn takes a breath and lays his head down before exhaling deeply.   
Damn Niall and his crazy schemes.

…

It was easy enough to slip away from the party and upstairs – even if Zayn thought that it should have been a bit harder.   
Still he was dying for a smoke and the doors to the back garden were locked.   
Really his hand was being forced.   
The only trouble was most of the doors up here were locked too.  
   
Finally Zayn found one, slipping inside and closing the door behind him quickly.   
The room was dark and Zayn strode toward the windows, shoving aside the translucent curtain and examining the closest window before attempting to open it.   
After struggling with it for nearly thirty seconds the window finally opened, the knob spinning smoothly.  Zayn popped out the screen before drawing out his pack of cigarettes and lighting one.  
   
The first drag in was so beautiful it hurt and Zayn held it in his chest until he felt dizzy with it.   
He blew the smoke out the window, leaning against the edge of it.   
The window itself was big enough to be a door – another of the same size right next to it and two more were five feet away.   
  
What it must like to be rich. 

Zayn smoked his cigarette, tipping his ashes out the window in favor of trying to find something to use as an ashtray.  The last thing he needed was to destroy some priceless artifact and get thrown into jail or worse – have his parents called.   
  
A breeze shivered over the windowpane and Zayn shuddered with it – reveling in the cool air anyway.   
It was nice to be alone, nice to have silence.   
Niall loved coming to places like this – parties like this.   
Zayn hated it.   
  
For one it made him angry over every night he’d gone to sleep with nothing in his belly.   
For another it wasn’t as if he and Niall would ever have anything even close to this.   
Most of the time they weren’t even breaking even and Zayn had the feeling that they never really would.  
Niall didn’t seem to mind so much.   
  
And the way people stared at Zayn – especially tonight.   
People at these types of things stared at him one of two ways: like he was gum under their designer shoes – or like he was something pretty that they could easily purchase and own.   
Zayn took another drag, lips curling briefly. 

Niall was still downstairs and probably having the time of his life too.   
Course he was wearing one of the little waiter’s vests and holding a tray just beneath his grin.   
Zayn hadn’t been quite that lucky.   
  
Because this wasn’t just any party – oh no.   
Tonight’s event was being hosted by the Payne family, renowned worldwide for their gemstone and jewelry empire.   
He negotiates for the gemstones, she designs the jewelry and everyone lives happily ever after blah, blah, blah.  
   
The only problem is Zayn is wearing earrings and a ring worth more than his entire life and it’s making him itch.   
Sure – the jewelry’s beautiful.  And he’s literally being paid to wear it.   
Should be lovely.   
But all of this just feels…like he’s playing dress up.   
  
Like he’s putting on his dad’s shirt and shoes and stuffing his briefcase full of coloring books before setting up an office at the dining room table.   
It’s not real.   
And having it – even for a night – well it hurts more than Zayn likes. 

He finished his cigarette and lit another.   
He could always buy more tomorrow.  
There was a high pitched, awful scream from behind him and Zayn spun so fast he nearly toppled right out the window he’d opened, kicking the screen and managing to grab hold of the frame with one hand.   
  
Hands were pulling him back upright what felt like years later and Zayn forced himself to start breathing again.   
            “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, breathless as he shook the guy off and stepped away from the window.   
            “There was a moth,” the man explained simply.  “And I was here first so I think I should be asking what you’re doing.”   
  
He crossed his arms over his chest then and Zayn could barely see his face – the only light still streaming in from outside.   
            “Was it not obvious?”   
Zayn was already reaching into his pocket for another, hands trembling.   
            “I suppose I meant up here.”   
  
Zayn shrugged, taking a drag before answering.   
            “The doors to the garden were locked.”  He waited a moment or two, glancing to the glowing end of his cigarette.  “Why are you sitting in the dark?”   
            “I was reading.”   
            “In the dark,” Zayn prompted dryly.   
  
He took another drag and stepped back to the window to exhale the smoke.   
            “I have a book lamp.  My parents are always dragging me to these things – they don’t care if I slip away as long as I don’t make it obvious.  Y’know.”   
Zayn rolled that around a moment.   
            “No.”   
There was an awkward pause as Zayn went back to his cigarette. 

            “You’re one of the models then?”   
Zayn flicked some ash out the window.   
He wondered who he was even talking to right now – whether he could get in trouble for this.   
“’M Liam,” he finally added.  “And you?”   
  
Zayn couldn’t stop himself from snorting.   
            “Like you care?”   
            “Well no one’s ever broken into my room before so…yeah.”   
            “Shit,” Zayn let out.  “Shit I didn’t realize-“  
            “It’s alright,” Liam said.   
            “I’m sorry, I’ll go,” Zayn said.   
Why he even thought that this Liam had snuck in here too was beyond him and he’d just casually continued smoking his fucking cigarette after _breaking_ in here.   
 _Oh god_.   
  
He flicked his cigarette out the open window somewhat desperately, grabbing for the screen and struggling to replace it.   
Liam came to help, which only made it worse and this was like several of Zayn’s nightmares rolled into one.   
  
Eventually, because he was being absolutely worthless, Zayn stepped back and let Liam handle it.   
“Please don’t have me arrested,” Zayn blurted as soon as Liam had finished and turned to look at him.   
Liam snorted at that.   
            “I’m not supposed to be up here either, remember?”   
Yeah that obviously wasn’t the same thing but Zayn knew better than to contradict him.  
            “Okay.  Great.  Thanks.”   
It looked like Liam was smiling.  
   
            “You don’t have to go,” Liam told him.   
            “I really do,” Zayn disagreed, popping a piece of gum.  “I can’t afford to get fired.”   
Liam didn’t say anything for a moment.  
            “I doubt they’d fire you.  You’re gorgeous, aren’t you.”   
            “Thanks.”   
Zayn meant it to sound offhand but he didn’t quite get there.   
  
Heat flooded his cheeks; he tried to ignore it.  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and moved back towards the door.   
            “Aren’t you used to hearing that by now?”   
            “People tend to ignore me.  When I’m not wearing this shit.”   
            “Maybe they just act like they do,” Liam suggested.   
  
There was something about that thought that Zayn liked.   
            “I really have to go.”   
He wasn’t quite sure if he was reminding Liam or himself but the point stood either way. 

Liam tucked his hands into his pockets.   
            “It was nice to meet you.”   
            “Sure,” Zayn agreed.   
He was still embarrassed, flustered and he couldn’t wait to get back downstairs.      

Zayn forced himself back out the door, not letting himself glance back.  
Only he never made it back to the party.

…

The door snaps open and a broad man in a neat suit strides through.  He sits next to Zayn – which Zayn finds disconcerting – and crosses his ankles.  
Which Zayn finds even more disconcerting.   
            “So,” he says, “we’re going to be needing those pieces back.”   
Zayn’s stomach swoops and twists in rapid succession and he jumps to comply.   
He’d totally forgotten he was wearing them.  
  
The ring clatters to the table and he tugs the earrings out, slipping the backs back onto the post and dropping them, probably not carefully enough, onto the table top as well.   
The man in the suit sweeps them into a black velvet box that Zayn hadn’t even seen.

He regards Zayn again.   
“And whatever else you’ve stolen.”   
Anger flares hot in his belly and Zayn presses his lips together, narrowing his eyes in a glare.   
            “I’m not a thief.”   
The man snorts at that.   
            “Ha,” he lets out.  “Ha _ha_.”   
  
Zayn bites down on his lip instead of doing anything rash.   
            “Fine,” he grits out.  “But I only take what I need.”   
            “Right,” the man agrees, patronizing now.  “Turn out your pockets.”  
            “No.”   
Zayn leans back and crosses his arms over his chest.   
            “I don’t have all night.  The sooner you do what I want the sooner you get paid and you leave.  Everyone will be happy.”   
Zayn doesn’t move.  
“Or I can bring some guards in – they can search you and you can leave _without_ pay.” 

Zayn knows his face is red, shame or anger he can’t be sure.   
The worst part is knowing there really isn’t a choice.   
Not that he can afford choices often.   
Zayn uncrosses his arms and unbuttons his jacket in jerky motions, tossing it at the man before shoving his chair back and standing. 

He dumps his cigarettes and lighter onto the table, tugging the lining of his pocket out.   
The other pocket holds just a few coins – not even enough for a bus home.   
He turns that pocket out too.   
            “There.  That wasn’t hard, was it?”   
The man offers Zayn back his jacket with a single finger and Zayn takes it.   
He pretends his hands aren’t shaking as his fingers tighten on the fabric.

Zayn shoves his things back into his pockets and tugs his jacket back on.   
He doesn’t look back up – can’t really.   
But on the table are a few folded bills.   
It’s more than he was expecting and Zayn hates the stab of gratefulness he feels.   
            “I do hope I never see you again,” the man says, sweeping from the room just as dramatically as he’d entered it. 

Zayn debates staying to smoke another cigarette.   
Then he wonders what time it is and whether Niall left without him.   
Zayn’s not sure how he’s getting home if he has. 

Zayn takes exactly three moments to feel sorry for himself – then he follows the man out the door. 

…

Niall’s making dinner by the time Zayn rolls out of bed the next day.   
Zayn doesn’t acknowledge this, heading for the coffee instead.   
It’s not until Zayn sits at the table that Niall says anything.  
            “So what happened to you last night?  You meet somebody?”   
Zayn grimaces into his cup.   
            “I’m never going back to one of those things again.  And yes.  But never again Niall.  I mean it.”   
Of course, Niall ignores everything but what he decides to hear.   
            “You met someone?  I had a feeling.” 

Zayn groans, loudly.   
            “Ni.  I also basically got strip searched by this creepy dude with awful hair.”   
Niall laughs at that.   
Of course he does.  
            “He’s not the one you met, right?”   
            “You’re disgusting,” Zayn says, utterly sincere.   
            “Tell me what happened or I’m not sharing my food.”  Niall adds a ridiculous little hip shimmy and Zayn tries not to be fond.  
He mostly succeeds.  
   
            “I snuck upstairs for a smoke.”  
Zayn takes another swallow of coffee as Niall gasps dramatically.   
            “ _Upstairs?_ You went _upstairs?_ ”  He sighs.  “Were the toilets gold?  Just tell me.  I can take it.”   
            “All the doors were locked,” Zayn tells him next.  “Except one.”   
            “Sex dungeon,” Niall says, nodding sagely.  “I knew it.”   
Zayn wrinkles his nose, not bothering to respond. 

            “And I met this guy named Liam.  Apparently it was his room?  I don’t know.”   
There’s no reaction to this and when Zayn looks up from his coffee Niall is just staring at him.  
Just staring.   
“What?”   
            “Liam _Payne_?  You met _Liam Payne_?”   
Only Niall’s yelling know, cheeks a hazardous red as he abandons the stove and starts shaking Zayn by the shoulders.   
“You met Liam-recluse-richer-than-Bill-Gates-probably-bend-me-over-the-arm-of-the-sofa-Payne?” 

Zayn blinks at him a few times.   
            “Yeah,” he says.  “I guess.”   
            “You’re straight, aren’t you?  Our whole friendship has been a lie.”   
            “You know I like both Ni,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes.   
            “How did you leave Liam Payne’s bedroom without at _least_ sucking his dick?  Did you even try?  Zayn we can’t be friends anymore this is the end.”   
Niall wipes away a fake tear and goes back to the stove – before anything’s burned.   
Of course. 

Zayn sighs.   
He picks up his mug and carries it to the coffee table where their shared laptop rests.   
He’s finished his coffee before the webpage has loaded and Zayn carefully types ‘Liam Payne’ into the search bar before hitting enter.   
While that’s loading he goes for another cup of coffee.   
Niall ignores him. 

Back on the couch Zayn freezes with his mug halfway to his mouth.   
There’s no way for him to know how long he sits like that before Niall hollers,  
            “Exactly!” from the kitchen.   
            “It was dark,” Zayn whispers.  “The lights were off.  I didn’t-I couldn’t see him.”   
            “That is actually tragic.”   
            “Shut up,” Zayn says.   
 _I know_.   
“I think he was flirting with me,” he adds.  “He probably was.  And I wouldn’t even tell him my name.” 

Niall watches him a moment before rounding the counter and sitting next to him.   
            “It’s okay,” he says after a moment.  “You hate rich people.  You’d have regretted fucking him.  Right?  I mean _I_ wouldn’t.  Because I’m not crazy but you.  You and your morals and all that.”   
He squeezes a laugh from Zayn, fingertips digging into his ribs.   
            “Shut up,” Zayn says again.  
But he does feel a bit better.        

…

It’s nearly two weeks before Zayn has reason to think about the Payne family again – not that he hasn’t been thinking of Liam much more than that but no one needs to know that anyway.   
There’s a knock on their door and Zayn looks to Niall, who shrugs, before getting up to answer it.   
On the other side is the man from the party.  The rude one in the suit.  The one Zayn had hoped to never see again.

            “Mr. Malik,” he greets, mouth curling over the word with enough disdain to drown a puppy.   
            “Malik,” Zayn corrects, unsure how to react.   
His stomach is twisting up and all he wants to do is shut the door in this guy’s face.   
            “The Paynes would like to shoot you for their next campaign.  We don’t have your contact info.”   
            “I don’t – what.” 

For a moment the man just blinks at him.   
            “Model,” he says, “they want you to model for them.  You understand the concept, yes?”   
            “Fuck off,” Zayn tells him, shoving the door closed.   
A shiny wingtip shoves itself between the door and the frame, keeping it open. 

            “Name your price,” he says tightly.   
            “I don’t want anything from you people.”   
The man sniffs in disdain at that, looking around the dilapidated hallway he’s standing in.   
His shoes might be the most valuable thing in this building actually.   
            “Name your price,” he says again. 

            “Five hundred,” Niall calls from inside the apartment.   
            “Eight,” Zayn corrects, arching a brow.   
            “Done,” the man says, too easily for Zayn to enjoy it.  
Too easily for him to believe it.   
“Not bad for one day’s work.”   
            “You know what – no.” 

Niall’s pressing against his back then, whispering in his ear.  
            “Suck it up Zayn we can use that money.  Plus, you really think this is a coincidence?  Maybe Liam is going to be there.  Maybe he wants you to be there.”   
            “This guy’s a dick,” Zayn says, not looking away from him.   
Other than his mouth tightening there was no reaction to that. 

Niall pokes his head around the edge of the door.  
            “You’re not going to be there, right?”   
            “No,” the man sniffs.   
            “Excellent.”   
Niall pats him on the back as if it’s all sorted and well, maybe it is.   
            “Be here at 7 AM on Friday,” the man says then, tugging a slip of paper from his pocket and handing it over.  “Don’t be late.” 

Zayn finally shuts the door, frowning as he examines the paper.   
            “7 AM,” he groans to himself.   
Niall just laughs at him. 

…

By the time Thursday rolls around Niall has worked Zayn into a proper state.  
What if it is because of Liam that he got this job?  
Is Liam going to be there?   
What does he want from Zayn?   
Only Zayn’s not sure which answer to each question worries him more. 

He’s been pacing his room for the last hour and he needs to take a shower and go to sleep but he’s too nervous.   
What if Liam _is_ there?   
Zayn will be a nervous wreck he already knows.   
There’s absolutely no way for this to end well. 

Niall pushes his door open and invites himself in, settling on Zayn’s bed with his baggie of joints and his lighter.   
            “For god’s sakes Zayn, sit down.  Let’s smoke a few and then you can go to bed.”   
            “Yeah, alright,” Zayn says, though he normally would argue.   
They don’t smoke very often – can’t afford it all the time anyway.   
Usually they’ll only share a joint but tonight Zayn has a feeling it’s going to take more than that.   
Niall hands him a joint and the lighter.   
            “Go ahead,” he says, “please.” 

Niall joins him for the second and the third.   
After that Zayn waves him off, he doesn’t want to look like he spent tonight getting high tomorrow.   
            “Better?” Niall asks.   
Zayn nods slow, too content to bother with words.   
“Good, yeah,” Niall says.   
  
He struggles to his feet and ruffles Zayn’s hair before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Zayn’s eyebrow.   
Niall nearly falls then, laughing quietly at himself.   
He climbs over Zayn, kneeing him a few times, and settles on the bed.   
Zayn crawls up to join him and they sleep like that, too settled to even bother turning the light out. 

Niall wakes him up in phases the next morning.   
First it’s,  
            “Five more minutes Zee.”  
Then it’s,  
“Makin coffee Zee.”  
Maybe only another second and then,  
“Get your lazy arse out of bed Zayn.”   
Zayn drags a pillow over his head instead.   
“I’m warning you,” Niall calls, probably from the kitchen.

Zayn screams when Niall tosses the ice down the back of his shirt, flailing off the bed and landing on the floor with a painful thump.   
Niall has the decency not to stand there laughing at him.   
Instead he heads back to the kitchen.   
            “Get in the shower,” he says, “and come eat.  It’s already five.” 

The words simultaneously spark pain and fear into Zayn.   
For once in his life, he actually is terrified of being late.   
He struggles to his feet, stumbling into the bathroom and ripping off his clothes before turning the water on.   
It’ll take a few minutes to get a good temperature so Zayn steps in, stifling his gasp at the cold water. 

He dresses almost as quickly as he’d undressed.   
Niall’s got eggs and sausage waiting for him and not for the first time in his life Zayn is so immensely grateful for Niall he wants to cry.   
            “Coffee?”   
Niall rolls his eyes.   
            “What?  You think I’m a magician?  Wizard?  Genie?”   
            “Yeah,” Zayn says.  “Sounds about right.” 

Niall snorts but gets him his coffee anyway.      

In the end Niall drops Zayn off five whole minutes early and not one person asks who he is – they just shuffle him into a makeup chair and offer him more coffee.   
A bit bemused – Zayn accepts. 

He’s put in dark red earrings this time – Zayn’s not sure if they’re garnets or rubies and he’s not sure he wants to ask.  
They coordinate with the watch on his wrist which is a mix of gold, the red stones, and what Zayn assumes are diamonds.  
He doesn’t ask about them either. 

Then they put him in ripped skinny jeans and a white v-neck.   
Most of Zayn’s tattoos are showing and when he catches a glance of himself in a mirror and it’s insane – what he looks like. 

He’s joined by another model on a green couch with a white backdrop.   
The model is in jeans as well, wearing a necklace and a ring set with no shirt at all.   
Zayn’s not entirely sure what the concept of this photo shoot is.   
It takes him another moment to realize neither of them have been given shoes either. 

            “I’m Lucas,” the model introduces himself, swinging dark hair over his shoulder.   
            “Zayn,” Zayn returns.   
            “You look kind of-“ Lucas cuts off to widen his eyes and part his lips just slightly.   
            “Yeah thanks,” Zayn snorts.   
He could blame it on being tired but he just draws further into his shell instead.  
What does he think he’s doing here?   
  
            “When I was nine I went on my first roller coaster and pissed myself,” Lucas says conversationally.   
It shocks a laugh out of Zayn.   
“Your turn,” Lucas prompts, relaxing into the couch and poking Zayn with a toe.  “Tell me something embarrassing.”     
            “I accidentally broke into Liam Payne’s bedroom couple weeks ago,” Zayn admits, because it’s the first thing that pops into his head.   
Lucas laughs at him but it’s like Niall would laugh at him and Zayn’s okay with it, smiling too.   
            “Shit,” Lucas says, appreciatively.   
Zayn hums, taking a moment to watch the flurry of activity going on around them.   
  
            “So how do you think we should play this?  Boyfriends?  Brothers?  I’m really attracted to your girlfriend but also you?”  
He props a hand under his chin and pouts and Zayn laughs again.     
            “I’ve got no idea, like, why don’t we have shoes?”   
            “Probably something to do with us not wanting to take our jewelry off.  We’ll just cuddle on the couch in enough jewelry to buy a private island.”   
Zayn’s face scrunches up as he laughs again, suddenly loud as the room quiets sharply. 

Zayn glances around quickly, swallowing sharply when he sees him – Liam Payne is here. 

If it’s any consolation – and Zayn supposes it is – Liam looks just as surprised to see him.   
The expression is there and gone and Liam is turning to one of the men at his side, saying something as he tucks his sunglasses into his pocket.   
The man shrugs in response and Zayn has no idea what’s going on.  At all. 

            “Does he normally-?” Zayn cuts off when he realizes he’s whispering but Lucas leans closer to answer anyway.  
            “I’ve literally never seen him in person before.”   
            “Good,” Zayn says.  “That’s good.”   
Of course what he means is _fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,_ but if he’s not saying it out loud no one has to know.   
            “Here,” Lucas says, patting his thigh.  
            “Hm?” Zayn hums, forcing himself to stop glancing to Liam.   
            “Give me your feet.”   
  
When Zayn doesn’t comply fast enough Lucas reaches down himself and drags Zayn’s feet into his lap.  
He digs his thumbs into the middle of Zayn’s right foot, making him jump.   
            “Relax,” Lucas smirks at him.  “It’s not like he’s going to attack you.  I mean I’m sure someone would stop him.  Or at least try.”   
            “Not helping,” Zayn grits out, flexing his feet.   
Lucas is still smirking but falls silent and continues his impromptu massage. 

Lucas is great, Zayn’s really glad they got paired up.  
It’s not enough to forget Liam’s there – or to stop him from wondering _why_ he’s there – but it’s enough for Zayn to push Liam to the back of his mind for the next few hours at least. 

At least – that’s what Zayn thought.   
They break early, people moving forward to change the set and more models coming in.   
Zayn’s followed Lucas over to the snack table and he’s only just picked up a bottle of water when there’s a hesitant touch to his elbow.  
            “Are you going to tell me your name or do I have to ask someone?”  The words are quiet and amused – _charming_ part of his brain supplies.   
 _Fuck_ Zayn manages to think next, feeling his cheeks heat. 

He turns enough to look at Liam properly, forcing half a smile.   
            “My name’s Zayn.”   
            “Nice to meet you Zayn,” Liam says, offering his hand to shake.   
Zayn switches the water bottle to his other hand quickly, shaking Liam’s hand and nearly shuddering at the heat of it.   
            “Do you come to these often?” he asks, letting his hand drop.   
Liam laughs quickly at that.   
            “No.  Not at all.” 

            “Excuse me,” a woman says, even though the only thing she’s interrupting is an awkward silence, “um Mr. Payne, Mr. Malik – I need the pieces back.”   
            “Of course,” Zayn offers her a smile and tucks his water bottle under his arm before taking out the earrings one by one and handing them over.  He turns his attention to the watch, frowning as he fiddles with the slick clasp.   
            “Here,” Liam offers, making Zayn freeze as Liam carefully takes hold of his wrist.   
He has the watch off in a second, offering it to the girl and smiling at her as well.  

Zayn may or may not take a step back to open his water and quickly gulp some down.  
He knows he’s blushing and it’s awful because – seriously – what even is this?   
Some cosmic joke?   
A poor man’s _Pretty Woman_?   
In what world do people like Liam actually pay attention to people like Zayn?   
He supposes he shouldn’t really think of it like that because he knows that people think he’s attractive – rich people have paid attention to him plenty.   
But it seems different with Liam.   
Somehow. 

            “I’m sure you don’t have much time,” Liam says next.  His smile is a bit apologetic and Zayn’s trying not to be charmed but he’s _so_ polite.   
“Would you consider having lunch with me?” Liam says it all in a rush, actually biting down on his lip.   
 _Oh god_.   
Zayn heavily considers passing out.   
“Not today,” Liam continues, his throat flushing as he pushes the words out.  “If you don’t want.  And…probably at my house…because I don’t go out very much.”   
            “Okay,” Zayn says.   
 _Oh god_ he thinks again. 

Liam grins at him and Zayn forgets to panic.   
How is this a real person in front of him right now?   
            “Today?” Liam questions, sounding hopeful.  “I wasn’t sure about your schedule.”   
            “I just have this today,” Zayn says after a moment.   
Rather than _I was just going to go home and sleep_.   
            “I’ll just hang around then,” Liam says, “until you’re done.”   
Zayn manages to nod, his chest hooking and fluttering as he breathes. 

Someone’s drawing him away then, settling him down for more makeup and holding more jewelry up to his face in the mirror.   
Zayn doesn’t watch them do it for long, dropping his gaze to his hands in his lap. 

…

            “I hate you both,” Liam says, even if the smile on his face completely betrays him.   
Harry laughs out loud at that – Louis just smirks at him.  
Liam is so, so fond of them.   
Of course, they didn’t tell him he was coming here this morning.  He’d never have agreed.   
But Harry and Louis serve dual purposes as far as Liam is concerned.   
They protect him when necessary, which isn’t very often but once his parents found out about the things that were going on at school they couldn’t stand the thought of it, and they also – in Louis’ words ‘keep you from being so boring Master Payne, it’s for your own good – really.’   
So they, and probably his own mother but he’s not thinking about that, had set up this whole thing. 

And really, it was mostly Liam’s fault.   
Ruth had caught him going through pictures of the party, the next day, and by that night near everyone in the house knew about it.   
Liam honestly wasn’t sure if his mother’s interest in Zayn was professional or for his sake.  It could go either way.   
Harry and Louis dragging him here though – well that wasn’t as mysterious. 

            “Look at our little Liam Haz,” Louis sniffs, wiping away a fake tear, “all grown up and pulling the finest specimen of humanity I’ve ever seen.”   
            “We’re so proud,” Harry adds, looping his arm through Louis’ and leaning on his shoulder.   
            “Shut up,” Liam says, the back of his neck getting hot.  “It’s not even a big deal.  I mean he’s probably afraid of me.  I’d be-“  
  
            “Liam,” Louis interrupts, covering Liam’s mouth firmly, “shut up.”   
            “You’re a harmless teddy bear Liam.  Spiders aren’t even afraid of you,” Harry adds.   
            “He’s so into you Li, I swear,” Louis nods sharply as if that ends the conversation.  
Maybe it does. 

Liam’s pretty sure not even fifteen minutes have passed, Zayn has yet to reappear, and he’s already getting incredibly nervous.   
            “What if he thinks I’m a huge nerd,” he whines, letting Louis pull him to sit on his lap.   
            “You are a huge nerd,” Louis says, somehow making it seem kind.  “So he’ll probably think so.”   
Liam frowns and smacks Louis’ hands away from his chest.   
            “You’re not helping.”   
            “I can’t be helpful when you’re being ridiculous Master Payne.”  
   
Liam huffs at that, shoving out of Louis’ lap totally and walking to Harry, who’s offering a hug.   
            “Don’t call me that.”   
            “Yeah Lou,” Harry adds, pouting down at him as he pets Liam’s head, “don’t call him that.”   
Harry draws back but leaves an arm over Liam’s shoulders.   
“It’ll be fine Liam.  Promise.”  
            “There’s a reason I don’t do things like this,” Liam protests.   
            “You have to start sometime,” Harry says.   
Well, he has a point.    

They each take a chair and watch people move around for a bit, Liam perking back up as Zayn reappears.   
He’s in a suit this time – Liam not spotting the ring on his finger until he reaches to touch his tie.   
            “Wow,” Liam sighs.   
He can all but feel Harry and Louis sharing a look over his head.  
Liam can’t really bring himself to care. 

They’ve got him posing with a woman in a backless gown, wearing one of his mother’s emerald necklaces backwards.   
Her back is to the camera for most of the shoot and Zayn touches her neck or her arms and he’s all Liam can look at.   
He’s so beautiful.   
God Liam wants – he wants foolish things with Zayn.   
Not sex necessarily, not that he _hasn’t_ thought about that, but he wants to hold hands during movies and have pillow fights and accidentally nap on Zayn and find out what makes him laugh and trace his tattoos.   
He wants to fall in love with Zayn and he realizes this rather suddenly. 

It doesn’t feel like the crushes he used to get at school.   
This feels much scarier than that, maybe because it actually seems possible.  
Liam doesn’t want to hope but he’s not sure that he can help it.      

They run through three more shoots with Zayn and he finally makes his way to Liam.   
            “They said they’re all done with me so I’m just gonna grab my clothes, yeah?”   
Liam pushes out of his chair because it feels weird to still be sitting.   
            “Great,” Liam offers, trying not to smile too big.   
Zayn smiles too.  
            “Okay.” 

By the time Zayn comes back out he’s dressed much more casually, hair framing his face softly and eyes nearly half closed.   
Something in Liam’s stomach curls at the sight of him.   
            “Um,” he hesitates, “you sure you wanna do lunch?  Not too tired?”   
Zayn blinks rapidly, eyes widening as he stretches his shoulders a bit.   
            “Yeah.  Yeah um, I’m good.”   
            “All right,” Liam agrees, unsure what else to do.  “Car’s this way,” he adds. 

Louis rides up front while Harry drives, leaving Zayn and Liam in back.  
            “Don’t think I realized how tired I was,” Zayn admits, leaning against the window.  “’S like I remembered who I was when I put my own kit back on.”   
He glances to Liam for a split second that somehow feels important.   
            “I can drop you off,” Liam offers.  “Rain check.”   
Zayn grimaces at that.   
            “Nah,” he yawns, “I’m fine.” 

Liam raises his eyebrows and laughs.   
            “You gonna fall asleep on me?”   
Zayn’s brow wrinkles at that and he glances to Liam again.   
He’s much more expressive like this – as if he’s forgotten to put up his walls.  
            “Definitely not,” Zayn tells him.      
Only he does. 

            “Zayn?” Liam tries quietly.  “Zayn?”   
            “Oh god,” Louis mutters, glancing over his shoulder.  “Have you actually put him to sleep?”   
            “I didn’t,” Liam hisses, a bit offended.  “He was tired.”   
            “Well what are we going to do with him now?” Louis demands.   
            “Oh.”   
Liam takes a moment to sigh.  
“Well I guess we’ll take him home?  Do we have his address?”   
            “We can get it,” Louis says. 

Zayn doesn’t do more than stir when Liam shakes his shoulder.   
            “Zayn,” he tries quietly.   
He shakes him a bit harder.   
Zayn only groans and shifts into the window. 

Liam looks to Louis, who’s already got Liam’s door open and is watching from the sidewalk.   
            “We could just…wait until he wakes up?”   
            “Liam,” Louis sighs.  
It’s all he says.   
It’s enough.   
            “All right,” Liam agrees.   
            “He’s in 4J,” Louis says. 

Liam climbs out of the car and rounds the boot to carefully open Zayn’s door.   
He loops Zayn’s arm over his shoulder and sneaks his arm between Zayn’s knees and the seat before gently pulling him out of the car.   
Zayn curls into him, which makes it easier to carry him and harder at the same time.   
Liam deliberately ignores Louis’ gaze.  Harry’s too, even if that’s a bit harder since Harry’s holding the door open. 

Liam’s panting a bit by the time he makes it to Zayn’s door, hoping desperately someone is home as he kicks the door twice.   
A blond in nothing but plaid boxers and black socks answers the door, a slice of pizza in the hand that Liam can see.   
            “Fuck me,” he says, eyes dragging down Liam and back up.  “You carry him all the way up here?”   
Liam mostly thinks that obvious but he also thinks it would be rude to point that out.   
            “Yeah,” he says.  “Can I bring him in?”   
            “Sure,” the blond says easily.   
He nudges the door open with his hip before stepping back and leaving Liam room to carry Zayn in. 

The apartment’s small and messy but it looks comfortable too.  He glances around, kitchenette on the right, wall to his left, small living room ahead of him, and then looks back to the blond.   
            “Oh right,” he says, “bed’s through there.”  He points to the back left of the apartment, lifting his pizza to take another bite. 

The bedroom is a bit messier than the rest of the apartment and Liam tries to avoid stepping on any clothes before he sets Zayn on the unmade bed.   
He stands back up and straightens his shirt before realizing.   
One bed. 

Zayn groans again, pulling the edge of the blanket over himself before blinking up at Liam a few times.   
He frowns but doesn’t say anything and Liam offers a quick wiggle of his fingers before heading out and closing the door behind him. 

            “You’re Liam Payne,” the blond says as he walks back out.   
            “You’ve only got one bed,” Liam blurts because he obviously has a pathetically single tracked mind.   
The blond’s eyebrows go up.   
            “Not like that mate,” he says.  “Just saving space.”   
            “Oh,” Liam says dumbly. 

            “But while we’re on the subject,” the blond says, “if you hurt him I will make you regret it.  I will find a way to make you regret it.”   
            “Great,” Liam says, frowning quickly.  “I mean fine, okay.  Can you have him call me?”   
            “Sure,” the blond tells him, “give us your number then.”   
Liam tells him, amused as he digs out a pen and scribbles it on the lid of the pizza box currently spread across the coffee table. 

            “I’ll let him know,” the blond says then and Liam’s grateful for the dismissal.  “Name’s Niall by the way.”   
            “Good to meet you Niall,” Liam says, polite as always.   
Niall just smirks at him and sits back down.  He grabs another slice of pizza and Liam sees himself out.

…   

Zayn’s not sure what time it is when he wakes up.   
It looks dark outside and he lays back down, brow wrinkling as he tries to think.   
He remembers the shoot and Liam.   
Niall must have come back to get him.   
  
Zayn yawns a bit and drags himself into a sitting position, satisfied with that answer.   
His stomach grumbles softly and Zayn shuffles himself out of bed before stretching.   
Niall’s on the couch, not that Zayn expected anything different.   
            “’S there food?”   
            “I had pizza,” Niall said – which is and isn’t an answer.   
  
            “’S there any left,” Zayn specifies.   
            “Sorry mate,” Niall says, watching him oddly.   
            “What?”   
A slow smile creeps over Niall’s mouth and Zayn’s level of dread surges up over his heart.   
“What?”  
   
            “D’you really not remember?”   
            “Ni, I’ve just woken up I swear-”  
            “Liam Payne,” Niall says, cutting him off, “brought you home.” 

Zayn can’t feel his feet.   
            “He what?”   
            “He was very charming,” Niall continues, “asked why we had one bed and everything.”   
            “He’s seen our place?  He’s seen our room?”   
Zayn more or less stumbles into the counter, leaning against it for support.   
            “Yeah, he carried you in and put you to bed.”   
            “Why didn’t you stop him?” Zayn demands, feeling a bit hysterical.   
            “He’s not really the kind of guy you stop,” Niall snorts. 

            “Well I can clearly never see him again,” Zayn decides.  “’S alright.  ‘S fine.”   
            “Zayn,” Niall frowns.   
            “’S fine,” Zayn repeats.  “Not like it was going anywhere anyway Niall.”   
            “You don’t know that.”   
Zayn sighs and shakes his head.  
He’s not willing to fight about it. 

            “Gonna go back to bed,” he says.   
            “You just got up,” Niall protested, frowning at him.   
            “I’m just – tired,” Zayn says finally. 

He goes back to bed like he said he would – only he doesn’t sleep.   

…

            “Will you stop pouting,” Louis says – again.  “Honestly mate.”   
            “It’s been a week,” Liam responds.  Again.  “Obviously he doesn’t really want to see me.”   
            “Maybe he’s embarrassed,” Harry suggests.   
Liam sighs.   
They’ve all had this conversation several times over.   
“Honestly though,” Harry insists.  “I’d be mortified if a man saw my dreadful flat before our first date.  Wouldn’t you?”   
            “It’s not like I go on many dates,” Liam sighs.   
Alright he’s still pouting.  It’s whatever.   
“Plus I left him my number what am I supposed to do?  Show up at his place again?  That’s stalking.  There’s a reason he hasn’t called me and I highly doubt it’s because he didn’t put his clothes in the hamper.”   
            “Well you don’t know, do you?” 

There’s a beat of silence where Liam pouts some more.   
            “Maybe just go ask him,” Harry suggests.  “It’s not stalking if it’s the second time you’ve been to his place.  Plus the first time you were literally taking him home.  And he did agree to go out with you in the first place.”  
            “And trusted you enough to fall asleep in front of you,” Louis points out.   
            “That doesn’t mean anything, he was tired.”   
  
            “Harry,” Louis says, slapping the comic he was flipping through down, “we have no other choice.”   
He stands up quickly and approaches the bed.   
            “No,” Liam yelps, gathering his blankets the best he can and trying to roll into a rather desperate burrito.   
            “Haz get his feet,” Louis says, rushing forward and tugging Liam’s shoulders closer to him.   
            “No, fuck,” Liam chokes out but it’s too late for him to struggle back out of the tangled mess he’s in. 

Louis and Harry are already carrying him toward the door, despite his panicked wriggles.   
They pass at least five people on the way out, including Liam’s father, no one helps other than a few well wishes.   
            “I’m not even wearing shoes,” Liam protests.   
They shove him into the backseat anyway.   
            “Lucky it’s not the boot Li,” Louis tells him.   
            “We’ll buy you shoes on the way,” Harry says, tossing him a grin.   
            “That’s not helpful,” Liam says.   
Which he supposes is a lie.   
Having shoes is helpful.   
It’s the being forced to go see a guy that obviously isn’t interested that isn’t helpful.   
He doesn’t say any of that out loud though because Harry doesn’t deserve it just now.

Liam’s stomach is just twisting itself in knots and he can only imagine how red and awful his face looks.   
            “I don’t want to do this,” he reiterates.  “I’m not.  I can’t.  I don’t just go talk to boys that’s not what I do.  He didn’t call me.  Why wouldn’t he call me?  It’s not like he just wants me to show up.  Oh god what if he just sends me away.  What if I cry.”   
            “Liam.”  
Liam sighs and pouts a bit more.   
“You’re freaking out,” Louis adds.   
            “I know that Louis.” 

            “We should have taken the limo,” Louis tells Harry conversationally, “then we could have just put up the little divider pip pip pip and ignored him.”   
            “Don’t,” Liam says, half panicked.   
Which is dumb because they’re not in the limo and there’s no divider to be put up.   
He flops back on the seat and considers letting himself cry now so there’s less chance he’ll cry later.    

Liam rolls himself back up in his sheets and blanket and hums quietly to himself until he feels better. 

The car stops after a bit and Liam only holds his sheets tighter, refusing to move.   
A few minutes later they’re moving again and Liam has to assume they actually stopped to pick up some shoes for him.   
He refuses to be grateful. 

When the car stops again Liam risks a peek out of his cocoon.   
They’re outside Zayn’s flat and Liam hurriedly stuffs himself back in.  
            “We’re going to sit here until you’re ready Li.”   
Louis doesn’t sound remotely sorry about it either.   
Liam hates them both.   
He honestly does.   

            “I’m not doing it,” he announces, wrapping himself back up.   
            “Alright,” Louis agrees, sounding entirely unbothered.   
Liam squints at the fabric over his face.   
“We’ll be in the café on the corner when you change your mind.”   
            “You can’t just leave me in the car,” Liam objects.   
            “Can’t we?” Harry asks.   
            “We’ll crack a window,” Louis says.  “Perfect for the puppy you are.”   
            “I am not-”  
            “You are.” 

Liam lets out a groan of frustration and struggles into a sitting position.   
            “Fine,” he grits out, letting it build until he’s properly angry enough to squirm out of his blanket.  “Fine,” he repeats – half to himself, “I’ll do it.  Give me the shoes.”   
Neither Harry nor Louis say anything, both surely sensing Liam’s current fragility.   
Liam doesn’t say anything either, tugging out the ankle boots they bought him and looking to the front seat incredulously.   
“What are these?  Couldn’t you just get me sneakers?”   
            “You have sneakers,” Louis points out.   
            “You were in the car, Louis was driving, I got to pick,” Harry announces proudly.   
            “If you had simply agreed to come along…” Louis trails off.   
Liam grunts at him and wiggles the boots out of the box before tugging them on to his feet.   
He zips them and spares half a glare for the two men in the front before swinging out of the car. 

Much to Liam’s displeasure, Louis follows him.   
            “Can’t just have you go in for three minutes and come back out claiming he turned you down now, can we?”   
Liam can’t control his wince in time.   
That would have been such a good idea.   
Louis laughs just like he knows what Liam’s thinking.   
“Come along then – up you go.” 

Liam’s nerves surge up painfully and he’s a bit glad for the quick nipple twist and push to the small of his back.   
Where would he be without Louis?   
            “Alright I’m going,” he huffs, shoving at Louis.   
Louis just twists his nipple again and opens the door for him. 

The elevator’s practically trembling around them with Liam rocking up to the balls of his feet to the heels and back over again.   
            “Li,” Louis sighs – but other than that he remains silent.   
It’s not like Liam can help it.   
He kind of wants to die but he’s also a bit excited? 

Of course when they’re actually in front of Zayn’s door he mostly just wants to die.   
            “Oh god,” he manages, “I can’t-”  
Louis just rolls his eyes and reaches past Liam to knock.   
“Louis!” Liam hisses.   
            “What?  You just said you couldn’t – I’m helping.”   
            “I’m gonna kill you,” Liam hisses as the door swings open. 

He’s going to die.   
Right here.   
Right now.   
            “Zayn,” he squeaks.   
There’s really no other word for it.  It’s a squeak and it’s awful.   
            “Liam?” Zayn asks, frowning.   
Oh no.  
He’s so beautiful.   
            “Hi,” Liam manages.   
His throat is dry and rough and he considers passing out for a moment.   
“I – you never called.” 

Zayn looks away at that.   
            “Right,” Liam says after a long moment.  “Well, it’s fine.  I just w-wanted to make sure?  I guess.  I’ll go.”   
            “Oh my god Li,” Louis cuts in.  “Will you give the boy more than two seconds to answer?  You’ve been a miserable twat the last few days and we’re not leaving here until you do your very best.  Can you do that Liam?”   
Okay Liam was wrong.  He’s going to die now.   
            “Right,” he says again, coughing quickly.  “I’ve been a miserable twat the last few days.  Did you want to go to dinner with me and put my guards out of their misery?  If you don’t, I understand and we’ll go.  But maybe…if you do…we could?”   
            “Better,” Louis tells him, reaching out for a more affectionate nipple twist. 

            “You really want to go out with me?” Zayn asks.   
He’s looking at Liam like he’s crazy and that’s justified Liam guesses but expression doesn’t much match up with what he’s saying.   
            “Was that not obvious?” Liam demands.  “Yes I – yes.”   
There’s two short moments where they just look at each other.  
“Did you want to go out with me?”   
            “Okay,” Zayn says.  “I didn’t think you would come back,” he admits after a beat.   
            “I like you,” Liam admits, much quieter.     
Zayn doesn’t say anything to that but his lips twitch before he bites down on them.   
His cheeks are flushed a bit and Liam is so, so endeared. 

            “Alright have fun lads,” Louis says, clapping Liam on the shoulder and heading off back down the hall.   
            “Wait-”  
            “It’s alright!” someone yells from inside the flat.  “C’mon in Liam.”   
Zayn offers a hesitant smile before lifting one shoulder in a shrug and moving aside for Liam to come in.

…

Zayn’s shirt hasn’t been washed.  
It’s silly but that’s all he can think of.  
It hasn’t been washed and he’s worn it the past three days and that may or may not be a blotch of pizza sauce down by his hip.  
He’s not sure.  
            “Good ‘t see ya again,” Niall offers, grinning effortlessly at Liam as if this is all normal.   
            “You too,” Liam agrees, even if he still looks like he’s swallowed a spoon.  
            “Where you going then?”  
Zayn shoots him a panicked look because where are they going?  And how are they getting there?  
“Got my scooter fixed again,” Niall offers next.   
            “Again?” Liam asks quietly enough that Zayn might be imagining it.   
            “Your scooter hates me,” Zayn reminds Niall urgently. 

            “Nah, she doesn’t.  I’ll give her a big kiss before you go.  It’ll be fine.”   
Zayn doesn’t say anything – can’t really.   
Niall sees his brimming panic though, turning his attention to Liam instead.  
“Here Liam – sit.  We will be right back.”   
Niall points vaguely towards the couch before taking hold of Zayn’s wrist and tugging him back to the bedroom.   
            “Oh god, oh god,” Zayn lets out quietly, chewing on his bottom lip.   
            “Breathe,” Niall reminds him calmly, closing the door behind them and pushing Zayn to sit on the bed with a firm hand to each shoulder.   
            “Is this really happening?” Zayn demands, “Is he really out there?”   
            “Zee,” Niall sighs, “we don’t have time for dumb questions.”   
            “Okay,” Zayn agrees, letting out a quick breath.   
            “Now,” Niall continues, moving to the closet and pulling a few things down, “why don’t you and Liam go to the museum, they’re having student discounts until five.  Then you can go to Jahan’s for dinner and then you can go show him some of your art.” 

That’s actually a decent plan.   
            “I’m not a student,” Zayn points out anyway.   
Niall just snorts quickly.   
            “When’s the last time anyone checked?”   
            “But-”  
            “Wear these,” Niall cuts him off, tossing his second favorite pair of jeans at him.  “And this,” Niall adds, tossing a vest at him.  It’s followed by his leather jacket.   
            “Thanks?”   
Zayn’s still not sure this isn’t actually a dream.   
            “You don’t have time for your hair,” Niall says next, “here.”   
He’s standing in front of Zayn then, waving a beanie in front of his face.   
“Zayn,” Niall says, waving the beanie a bit more aggressively.   
            “Yeah,” Zayn manages.  
            “Get dressed.” 

Zayn can do that – at least.   
It’s simple enough to strip down and pull on what Niall’s given him.   
            “’S this really happening?” he questions, shoving the beanie on and tucking his hair under with his fingertips.   
            “Yup,” Niall says cheerfully, “now I just need to find my keys and get her warmed up.”  
Zayn chews on his bottom lip, not moving from the foot of the bed.      
“Right,” Niall says, watching him, “you just…pull yourself together then.”   
            “Yeah,” Zayn agrees, still not moving.  
Niall crosses back to him, clapping a hand to either cheek.   
            “Pull it together Zee,” he says, “I mean it.”   
He slaps him twice on both cheeks before turning to go.   
Zayn grumbles but shakes himself a bit, taking a few deep breaths before following after Niall. 

Liam’s on the couch, fiddling with his phone.   
As Zayn emerges he fumbles with it, dropping it.   
The phone hits the corner of the coffee table before bouncing to the floor and Liam curses quietly before scrambling after it.   
Zayn can’t help a quiet chuckle as Liam rights himself, smiling a bit too.   
            “Hey,” Liam says.   
            “Hey,” Zayn returns.  “Niall’s gettin his scooter ready…if you wanna go?”   
            “Yeah,” Liam says easily.  “Okay.”   
He doesn’t ask where they’re off to as they make their way downstairs – Zayn’s glad because the last thing he needs is Liam shooting down this plan before they even get started.   
He’s nervous enough as it is. 

And Zayn doesn’t really want to know why he’s _this_ nervous.   
It’s just…Liam wasn’t supposed to come back.  He definitely wasn’t supposed to look so cute and seem like he actually wanted to go out with Zayn with that earnest little tic in his lips.   
Basically he wasn’t supposed to be doing anything that he was doing.   
Liam was supposed to stay in his rich safe world and leave Zayn looking in from the outside as it was supposed to be.   
This was just dangerous really.   
Zayn knew there was every possibility that he could fall in love with Liam.   
They’d only met twice and already he could feel it happening.   
As much as he wanted to know what kissing Liam would be like he was terrified of the same thing.

            “Oh,” Liam says as he sets his eyes on Niall’s scooter for the first time.   
It only shakes Zayn from his reverie for a short moment because he’s not sure that Niall’s scooter has always been quite that small.   
It must have been.  Surely.  
But how are he and Liam both going to fit on that miniscule seat?   
How tightly will Liam have to hold on to him?   
Zayn stifles a groan, tucks it up behind his teeth.   
This is not going to end well.  
There is just no way for this to end well. 

            “It’s cute,” Liam adds when Zayn still hasn’t said anything and the silence has stretched on far too long.   
            “You don’t have to lie to save my pride mate,” Zayn tells him, “’s Niall’s piece of crap.”   
Niall makes a wounded noise at that, stroking over the scooter’s cracked headlight.   
            “And then you wonder why she won’t start up for you.  Don’t listen to them love – they don’t know you like I do.”   
There’s another awkward stretch of silence.   
            “We should go,” Zayn says, “we should definitely…go.”   
            “Yes,” Liam agrees, smiling at him.  “Please,” he offers softly.   
Zayn feels warm down to his toes and barely resists rubbing at the back of his neck. 

It’s not as awkward as Zayn thought it would be – really having Liam pressed up against him with both his arms wrapped firmly around Zayn’s waist is much much nicer than Zayn could have predicted.   
Only the thing is the date more or less goes downhill from there.   
Neither of them really talk in the museum beyond Liam saying,  
            “Oh…art.”   
And Zayn saying,  
            “Yeah.”   
They wandered around the exhibits and Zayn wanted to talk with Liam about the art but Liam looked a bit flustered and confused and this was so obviously not his thing.   
This was such a mistake.   
            “Listen like – did you want to get out of here?”   
            “Am I that obvious?” Liam asked, smiling quickly.   
            “A little bit,” Zayn admits.  “Maybe.”   
            “Sorry,” Liam sighs.   
            “’S alright,” Zayn tells him, “we can get some food and talk?” 

Jahan’s place isn’t too far from the museum and Liam looks much happier by the time they arrive.   
Zayn feels a bit relieved too, even smiling a bit.   
Jahan is as happy to see Zayn as he always is, bellowing out a greeting from behind the counter and rounding it to pull Zayn into his arms and smack a kiss to each cheek.   
            “How are you?” he demands, “It’s been so long!”   
            “Only a few weeks,” Zayn protests.  His cheeks are on fire, which he ignores.  “This is Liam,” he adds, “thought we’d stop for lunch.”   
Jahan looks between them and grins broadly.   
            “Very handsome couple,” he says, rolling his r’s neatly.  “Have a seat, have a seat, please,” he adds before Zayn can choke out a protest or maybe die of embarrassment.   
Of course, they are on a date.  And, in essence, a couple.  But.  Still.    
Zayn gestures to one of the small tables, even moving to pull out Liam’s chair for him.   
Liam laughs and looks like he doesn’t know how to react, eventually ducking his chin and smiling.   
            “Thanks,” he offers softly.   
            “Yeah,” Zayn manages.   
He takes the chair across from Liam, settling into the familiar atmosphere.    

            “This place looks really cool,” Liam says.   
He sounds like he means it – like everything he says and it makes Zayn’s stomach curl up warmly.   
It’s not like Jahan’s place is anything special.  The food is great and Jahan is amazing, of course, but the restaurant itself is small and cramped.  Clean – but outdated.   
“How did you find it?” Liam asks next.   
            “Oh um…I know the owner,” Zayn says, hoping to keep it vague.  “Or well, the owner’s son.  I guess.”   
Not that he wants to go into detail but he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s lying either.   
            “I feel like there’s a story there?” Liam asks.   
            “Uh.  Yeah,” Zayn admits slowly.   
Thankfully a waitress arrives to take their drink orders and Zayn can distract himself catching up with her for a moment – even if he can’t remember her name.   
            “Don’t think I’ve forgotten,” Liam says, the moment she’s turned away.  “Story time.”   
Zayn can feel his cheeks heating up, glancing down to his menu.        
“Is he an ex?  You don’t have to tell me.” 

Zayn laughs at that, has to really.   
            “No,” he says, “nothing like that.  ‘S just a bit embarrassing.  And a bit illegal.”   
            “Well now you have to tell me,” Liam says, leaning his elbows on the edge of the table.   
            “Jahan’s son was doing a bit of graffiti yeah, and it was probably my fault – only he nearly got caught and he’s trying to go to uni and I mostly…took the fall for him.”  
            “You got arrested?” Liam asks, his expression urgent.   
            “Only a bit,” Zayn says.  “It’s just – he was trying to copy me anyway and it’s not like I’m trying to get into a good school yeah and it was my first offense so I just had to do some community service a bit ago.  And now Jahan feeds me.”   
            “That was really good of you Zayn.”   
            “It was?” Zayn asks.   
Niall had only told him he was an idiot.   
Liam smiles briefly and nods.   
            “You do art then?”   
            “Oh not like…not really,” Zayn says.  “I just mess around a bit here and there.”   
Liam sits back then and tugs his hands into his lap to look at them.   
            “I don’t know much about art, to be honest.”   
            “That’s alright,” Zayn tells him.  “I don’t know much about jewelry.”   
He offers a quick smile – one that Liam returns.   

            “You don’t mind that I’m an ex-con then?”   
Liam snorts.   
            “You already broke into my bedroom – I think I would have known by now if I did.”  
Zayn lets out a groan.   
            “’S not like I meant to mate.”   
            “I know,” Liam says, “but…I’m glad you did.”   
The words make Zayn flush all over again and suddenly he can’t meet Liam’s eyes.   
            “This is crazy,” he adds after a moment.   
            “I think I know how you feel,” Liam says.  “I haven’t actually been on a date in nearly two years.”   
Zayn boggles at that, lips opening and nothing coming out.   
“I know,” Liam laughs softly.  He pauses to run a hand through his hair.  “It’s just that – I’m shy.  And it’s a bit hard to tell when someone wants to hang out with me or my parents’ bank account.”   
            “Why me then?”   
            “I have a good feeling about you.”  A smile flickers over his mouth at that – as if he’s embarrassed.  “And Lou and Harry like you too so,” he shrugs then.   
            “Settled then?”   
            “Settled,” Liam agrees.   
Zayn has to laugh then.   
            “And Lou and Harry are?”   
            “My guards,” Liam says.  “But they’re my best friends too.” 

            “I didn’t know your life was so dangerous.”   
Liam was quiet for several long moments.   
            “It’s not really.  My parents just…thought it was a good idea.”   
            “I’m glad you like them,” Zayn says.   
He’s eager to change the subject with how uncomfortable Liam is.   
            “So,” Liam says next, taking a breath.  “Graffiti.”   
            “Well Niall wouldn’t let me do the flat,” Zayn says.   
Liam’s eyes widen before he laughs.   
            “Zayn!  You can’t spray paint inside!  There’s…fumes…and stuff.”   
            “That too I guess,” Zayn teases.  “We can see some,” he says as the waitress drops off their drinks, unsure where the offer came from.   
            “Okay.”

The meal passed quickly enough and Jahan only came to speak with Zayn for a few more moments, winking exaggeratedly before leaving the table again.   
Zayn only wanted to die a little bit.   
It was certainly softened by the way Liam reached across the table to squeeze his hand.  
By the time they get ready to leave the restaurant Zayn’s fingertips are trembling.     
The whole point, he thinks, of doing graffiti is that no one really knows it’s him.  No one really knows it’s _his_.   
He can slip into the masses whenever he wants.   
He’s never much wanted a spotlight on this part of himself.   
When he’s modeling he doesn’t mind – it’s making him money.   
But his art is different. 

This feels like a huge risk.  
But at the same time Zayn knows that this, him and Liam, it isn’t exactly your standard relationship.   
It’s scary how fast it’s happening and Zayn thinks that maybe…well maybe if he can’t do this then it’s time to give up.  But he also thinks that maybe if he can do this then…then maybe he can.   
Of course it could be really stupid to be putting this much emphasis on a few blurts of paint on ignored walls and buildings.  It could be terribly stupid to make this a metaphor for their relationship or the relationship that they could possibly have.   
There’s not really any way for Zayn to know. 

Niall’s scooter starts on the third try, something deep in the engine banging and shuddering the entire thing under them.   
Liam clutches a bit tighter to Zayn and he isn’t really sure he minds.  
Zayn tries to think as he drives, unsure which piece would be the best to show to Liam.   
Eventually though, he just heads towards his favorite.   
It’s pretty close by and he doesn’t want to worry about running out of gas honestly. 

The sun’s just getting ready to set by the time he parks the scooter around the corner and Liam climbs off to give him some room.   
            “This way,” Zayn offers, tugging the key free and twirling the ring over his finger before tucking it in his pocket.   
On a whim, he grabs hold of Liam’s hand as they walk.   
Liam makes a quiet noise, aborted somewhere in his throat.  He doesn’t pull away though.   
Zayn’s lips tremble at that, something that might have been a smile.   
But he was far too nervous for that. 

            “Are you serious?” Liam says, when they’re finally facing the wall.   
It’s not much of a wall really – crumbling brick that’s been painted a fair few times.   
Zayn isn’t really sure what his answer is supposed to be though – so he just shrugs.   
“How did you know Batman’s my favorite?” Liam asks, moving closer to the wall and leaving Zayn behind.   
            “Oh,” Zayn lets out.   
Liam tosses a quick glance over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.   
“I didn’t,” Zayn tells him.  “Batman’s sick though.”   
Liam laughs at that, eyes crinkling up as his lips curl around the sounds of it.   
            “Yeah,” he agrees.  “This is so cool Zayn – really, really cool.”   
Zayn takes his eyes off Liam, with some difficulty, and looks to the wall again. 

He’d taken over the entire thing with the piece, most of it just black and grey rectangles that are meant to be buildings.   
But there’s a silhouette near the left edge of the wall, Batman on a ledge.   
Over near the right edge of the wall there’s the bat signal, almost heinously yellow against the rest of it.   
            “You really like it?” he asks, because he has to he supposes.   
            “This has got to be, like the best hobby,” Liam says.   
            “Other than being illegal,” Zayn offers.   
Liam just snorts at that though.   
            “Providing a service aren’t you, beautifying the community.”  He glances down to his toes and then to Zayn.  “I’m not sure beautifying is a word actually.”   
            “It is,” Zayn says, unable to stop himself from smiling.   
Liam looks relieved at that.  
            “Good.”   
            “You wanna head back to mine?” Zayn offers.  “We can see the rest another day.”   
            “I’d like that,” Liam says.  “Both actually.” 

            “Alright,” Zayn says, smiling again.   
Liam’s the one to take his hand this time, even if it’s just for the brief walk back to the scooter. 

Niall’s mysteriously disappeared by the time they get back and while the apartment looks the same Zayn’s pretty sure it smells nicer.   
            “Oh god,” Zayn says as he sees the flickering light from the cracked bedroom door.   
He rushes to it, leaving Liam in the doorway.   
Niall’s lit a few candles in the bedroom and there’s definitely clean sheets on the bed, tugged mostly straight.   
Zayn doesn’t even know whether to roll his eyes or laugh.   
He makes sure to blow out all the candles instead.   
“Sorry,” he says as he makes his way back out.  “Think Niall was trying to set the mood for us or summat.”   
He only realizes what he’s said when the words are out and then he can’t think what to say.   
“Sorry,” he settles on eventually.   
            “Kissing me might work a bit better,” Liam says – cheeks pleasantly pink.        
That makes sense Zayn thinks. 

He’s not really sure that he’s in control of his body as he moves forward.   
And this feels like a big moment – an important moment.   
But Zayn’s only half nervous.    
It’s like he just knows even if this goes wrong, even if he accidentally headbutts Liam or something similarly horrible, he knows Liam will work it out in the end.   
Kinda like the way Liam helped pop the screen back in the window, helped him with the watch at the photo shoot, carried him up four flights of stairs, and kinda like the way he’d politely wandered around a museum for an hour just because Zayn had wanted to.  
Liam was a bit spectacular that way.   
            “Hi,” Zayn says as he finally steps into Liam’s space, because he feels like he has to say something.   
Liam’s eyes crinkle as he grins.   
            “Hi,” he returns.   
Zayn manages to settle a hand onto Liam’s hip, grounding himself only a little.   
Slowly, painfully slow, he inches even closer.   
Liam doesn’t back away though, he doesn’t move at all other than to breathe.   
Zayn finally kisses him.  Their lips slide together and it’s soft like a first kiss should be.  
It’s overwhelming is what it is and Zayn has to pull back a touch just to breathe.   
            “Hi,” he says again, inanely.   
Liam only laughs at him.  
Gently though.   

In the morning Niall’s not there – but Liam still is.   
Zayn can’t help the little swoop in his belly when he finds Liam on the couch watching cartoons and eating a bowl of cereal.   
            “Morning,” Liam mumbles out, smiling and dribbling some milk down his chin.   
            “Yeah,” Zayn says softly, voice still sleep rough.   
 _You’re still here_ he thinks.   
But maybe he’s not really that surprised by it.   
Liam swipes at the milk on his chin and pats the ratty couch he’s sitting on.   
Zayn’s stomach dips again and he goes to join him. 

By the time Niall gets home they’re trading spoons of cereal, the second or third bowl, and lazy kisses and Zayn’s about as close to sitting in Liam’s lap as he can be, left thigh thrown carelessly over Liam’s hips and his calf and foot scrunched to fit in the space between Liam and the arm of the couch.   
            “When’s the wedding then?”   
Zayn wishes he had a throw pillow to hit Niall with.   
He doesn’t though.   
            “Shut up,” he mutters, curling even closer to Liam’s shoulder.   
Liam’s blushing – they both are.   
Maybe that’s alright then.  

**Author's Note:**

> soooo this is my first official 1D fic and I'm ngl horribly nervous but here we go anyway! 
> 
> not beta'd or britpicked sorry :((


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